


Legacy

by WhiteMizerable



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Force-Sensitive Finn, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:23:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteMizerable/pseuds/WhiteMizerable
Summary: Finn gathers seeds.





	

Finn gathers seeds.

He doesn't know why, at first. They have never appealed to him before, and even now he can't say he is particularly interested in gardening. But the seeds call out to him, somehow, and he cannot resist.

"Seeds?" Poe asks when he sees Finn collecting a handful from a bush covered in sharp golden blossoms. "What do you want seeds for?"

Poe does not sound judgmental, merely curious, so Finn just shrugs. "I don't know," he replies. "I just want them."

It's not a great answer, no matter how truthful it is, but Poe nods and accepts it. Finn can feel him watching as he gathers more from other plants, and he waits for Poe to ask again, but the question never comes. And then Finn finds piles of seeds on his bed that he knows he didn't collect, and he smiles.

"Seeds?" Rey asks when she sees him gathering some from a low-hanging patch of soft blue ferns. "What do you want seeds for?"

Rey does not sound judgmental either, only curious, so Finn lets out a noncommittal hum. "I don't know," he says. "I just want them."

It's still not a very good answer, even though it's still the truth, but Rey shrugs and accepts it. Finn can feel her staring as he collects more from other plants, and he waits for her to ask again, but the question never comes. And then he finds handfuls of seeds in his pockets that he knows weren't there before, and he smiles.

"Seeds," says General Organa, and it's not a question. Finn freezes where he's scooping up seeds from a cluster of neon green vines and meets her contemplative stare.

"Um," he says. "Yes?"

"Hm," she says, and leads him back to base to give him a few precious seedlings from what once was a grove on Alderaan. Finn doesn't smile, but he does thank her profusely, and he tucks them carefully away in his quarters.

He continues to gather seeds everywhere he goes. Seeds from big purple saplings and tiny glowing bulbs, from wispy moss and thick thorn bushes, from carefully cultivated gardens and overgrown wildflower fields. He keeps them in boxes, and though he tries to keep them separate at first, they jumble together, a mixture of all shapes and colors. When he looks in at them, something warm and bright flutters in his chest.

Then one day, as he pilots his ship- he's a quick learner, and Poe is a good teacher- away from the old Resistance base and off towards the new, his seeds stored safely in the tiny cargo space, a sudden certainty arises in his chest. His seeds are important, he knows, and they are needed somewhere, and they are needed now.

He comms the General. "Ma'am," he says, "I think I'm going to be late getting to the rendezvous point."

"May the Force be with you," she replies, and he knows that she understands.

He turns off the comm, resets the controls, and punches in the coordinates to a distant star system he has never known anything about until right then. The seeds hum with energy behind him.

The coordinates bring him to a moon, or something that was once a moon. It is a ruin now, a broken ball of rock and sand and dust that has had its heart ripped right out of its chest, shrouded by dark, angry clouds. Sadness weighs heavy on Finn's shoulders as he looks down at it. Something small and hopeful flutters behind his ribs.

He lands his ship on a narrow stretch of flat land within the center of the crater, and, after making sure the atmosphere is safe, climbs out onto the rocky terrain. He gathers up his little boxes of seeds. Everything feels quiet. The broken moon is holding its breath, waiting to see what he will do now.

Finn draws in a deep breath as well. He knows this place, somehow, even though he has never set foot here before. He can feel the silent vibrations of its faint pulse rolling up through his body. There is history here. There are stories. There is a future. He knows what it needs.

Opening the lid of one box, he grabs a fistful of seeds and throws them out across the rocks. They scatter over the ground. He pivots on his heel, grabs another, throws that as well. And then again, and again. When one box is empty, he opens another and walks forward, towards the center of the devastation, and throws out some more. Seeds rattle and roll around the wastes.

Soon, all the boxes are empty. Finn shakes them out, just to make sure, then sets them aside. He looks around at the ruined landscape, broken jagged rocks and colorless dust, and he feels the tiny specks of energy thrumming deep within each of his little seeds. A whispering breeze brushes sand and dirt across them, hiding them from sight. The clouds swirl darkly overhead.

And suddenly Finn is not alone. A presence, a hundred presences, a thousand, more, press in all around him, as if he stands in the center of a thriving city instead of a barren wasteland. But he sees nothing. He waits.

They appear one by one, translucent and glowing and quiet. There are hundreds of them, thousands, and they are all different, individual, a memory of someone who once walked this land. Finn meets the eyes of as many as he can. They deserve to be remembered, he thinks.

Three stand right before him. One is a monk, he believes, another a mercenary of some kind. The third looks like a pilot, with goggles sitting lopsided upon their head. This last figure steps forward and holds out their hands. Finn holds out his in turn, and is only partly surprised to feel something heavy settle against his palms. It's a stone, white-blue, thrumming with life.

"Thank you," the figure says, and smiles wide and bright. "Thank you."

High above them, thunder rumbles in the dark clouds, and for the first time in many, many years, it rains on the desert moon. Finn tips his head back and closes his eyes as it washes over him. He feels the memories around him do the same. The droplets are warm. He smiles.

In the dusty, rocky ground, the seeds begin to grow.

**Author's Note:**

> "What is a legacy? It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see."- Lin-Manuel Miranda
> 
> This ended up being a surprisingly emotional but very cathartic thing to write, as plain and simple as it seems.


End file.
